


handle with care

by jayyxx



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M, Out Of Character House, Wilson's got a baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5724676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayyxx/pseuds/jayyxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of how James Wilson ended up on his best friends doorstep with a baby in a carseat he’d stolen from the maternity ward, and the chaos that followed.</p><p>yes i renamed this like 8 times I'm s r y</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. year 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written very long ago... far before i decided to turn this into Something™. The first chapter is preetttyyy rough. It gets better. Promise! Also, this was originally two split chapters but i added them together
> 
>  
> 
> their new condo- i based it off the /4th/ image on [this page](http://www.yourownmobilehome.com/new-homes/floor-plans/)  
> ugh websites like this are so annoying.  
> I think House would be in bedroom 1, and Wilson in bedroom 2, and Bethy in bedroom three, mainly because I don't want Beth hearing when they have obnoxiously loud gay sex (I don't know if I'm kidding or not) ALSO i think I'm going to do every chapter she gets a year older, idk yet.

James Wilson _loved_ kids. 

He’s had three wives, three chances at happiness, and none have worked. 

With Sam, he thought _yes, this will work, we’ll marry and have kids,_ but then they fell apart too. 

He had once brought up the problem to his friend-turned-best-friend-turned-roomate-after-his-second-wife with this problem, and he simply told him he was having a mid life crisis, and hell, maybe he was. He wanted his name to live on. His brother, Danny, won’t be having any children, and if his eldest brother ever had kids, it’s not like he’d ever let James visit. 

He had asked his boss, Lisa Cuddy, for help, and she had whined about also wanting children, and how her life was getting away from her, and James didn’t find it useful at all. He, instead, sat and listened and nodded along to Cuddy complain about the problem he was having, but hell, she had lots of time. And, she had ovaries, something Wilson found himself lacking. 

He’d even talked to one of House’s team members, Allison Cameron, who had never had children herself, but seemed very bright and wise on the subject. She smiled and told him it was okay for him to feel this way, but by the end of it all, he felt better, but still had no solution. 

Then, one night, the phone rang at nearly 9. The apartment had been silent, House having gone to his room an hour or so ago, and Wilson had been reading on his couch-turned-bed. It rang in the kitchen, so, like the nice housemate he is, Wilson had gotten up off, and received the call. Dr. Webber told him that Mrs. Mitchell was crashing. He pulled on a pair of trousers and brushed back his hair. He said a quick goodbye to House, and rushed out. 

He brushed hair away from her face, upped her morphine, and helped her hold her baby to her chest as she fell asleep. When her limp arms fell away from Bethany’s back, she started to cry. It wasn’t loud and obnoxious like some cries, but quiet, like she knew exactly what was happening. Wilson had bundled the baby in a blanket, and sat in the armchair as the nurses prepared her for the morgue. He left when the sheet was draped over her, leaving with a final pat in the general vicinity of her hand, and ran out with the baby in his arms, only to bump into Cuddy. 

“Ah. I was just coming to get her.” She says, reaching to grab the baby. Wilson didn’t know why he did, but he turned away, protecting the baby from her hands. 

“Child services have been called.”  
“Call them back.” Wilson demands. “She’s not gonna’… Live in one of those homes.”

“And whys that?” Cuddy asks, tipping her head. 

“She just lost her mother!” Wilson nearly shouts, cradling the girl close. She’s still crying, puffy red eyes and a wet running nose. Cuddy looks at them like they're lost. 

“Please, let me take care of her tonight.” Wilson uses the puppy dog eyes. Her shoulders slouch in defeat, and it only takes a moment before Cuddy is on the phone again. “Yeah hi, this is Lisa Cuddy, we actually do have a doctor here willing to watch her at the hospital for the night. Yeah, aha, sorry about that, yeah…” She continues, nodding and turning on her heel.  
“You have one chance.” She yells across the room. Wilson then realized, he had no idea what to do now.

And _that's _how James Wilson ended up on his best friends doorstep with a baby in a carseat he’d stolen from the maternity ward.__

House groaned, long and loud, and looked at the ceiling. “Why God! What have I done to deserve this!” He complained, Wilson’s heavy briefcase in one hand as he shakes his fists to the sky. Wilson doesn’t even comment, he just pushes by him, placing Bethany on the floor beside the couch, before rucking up his dress pants to squat in front of her. 

“Gimme.” He demands, holding his arm out for his case. House limps to him, around the couch, before passing it to his awaiting hand. He slumps on the arm chair, as far away from the two as he can. Wilson rips open the zipper, pulling out a bottle and a cup of formula powder. House hears him take a deep breath before unbuckling the baby, and scooping her up. House watches relevantly as he cradles her, looking down at her face and making sure she’s comfortable.  
“What’s her name?” House asks. 

“Bethany.” Wilson returns, eyes never leaving her. House’s own eyes never leave Wilson. When Wilson looks up to smile at him, gesturing him over with a tip of his head, House has to go over there. They sit with their thighs touching as House leans over to examine her. 

“Here, sit back.” Wilson instructs. House doesn’t really know what this will lead to, but the soft voice he uses will make House do whatever he wants him to. Suddenly, Wilson is lifting his arms and arranging them, before lowering Bethany into them. House tenses up, scared of something unreasonable like that he’s going to throw her off the couch. 

“Look.” Says Wilson, drawing him away from his fears. “She’s gonna fall asleep on you.” “Oh. No thanks.” He says, but Wilson puts a hand on his arm, calming him. She’s kinda cute like this. Face relaxed and body still. House kinda likes her. House almost hopes Wilson keeps her. 

 

_________

 

The day she stayed turned into the one week. Then the one month, and the second, and House had started to realize that she’s not going anywhere. 

It’s not the crying that bothers him. Wilson sleeps on the brand-new pull out couch with Bethany pressed to his chest, so he’s quick to rock her back to sleep if she ever cries. It’s not the diapers, or the baby bottles all over the kitchen; it’s actually Wilson. 

Wilson smiles at her like she's the whole world. Her picture is framed on his desk and greeted him anytime he opened Wilson’s phone. The way he sings to her, quietly in the night while she sleeps. It’s how he makes silly faces at her when she is refusing to drink her bottle, or how he lays her of his chest when she’s crying. It’s her tiny fingers poking his face and pulling on his lip, and he can just stand and have a completely normal conversation. 

She can sit up and reach for things, and House just thinks; she’s so damn boring. All she does is sit and yell and babble words that don’t mean anything. Yeah, sometimes she laughs and it’s cute, or sometimes she sticks her tongue out at Wilson when he doesn’t do what she wants him too. But she’s _boring._ Fouls can stand and run with their mothers, dolphin’s young can swim down twenty feet, both within minutes. All she can do is sit there. 

House can’t even hold her unless he’s sitting on the couch. 

Which he does sometimes, when Wilson’s couch bed is just a couch and Bethany is laying in his lap, almost asleep, House will ask to hold her. Wilson will place her perfectly in his lap, adjust his arms while he sits quietly, letting him pull him and place him as he wishes. 

She’s not boring then… House knows she’s not going to be boring forever, she’s going to grow into her legs and is going to be jumping off the walls. With Wilson as her father, she won’t be boring. But here, she’s small and precious and House understands why the teen girls on MTV want one. Her hair is blonde and her eyes are blue, but not like his own, they’re quiet and kind, while his own are loud and telling. Her hands fist in his teeshirt and holds on. House finds her fascinating like this.

The next few days, as soon as he gets home, he’s trying. He’s holding her in the crook of his elbow and taking a few steps, before loosing his balance and having to bounce into the wall. He puts her flat against his chest, holding her closely as he takes a few more, his caned hand shaking with the pressure. He focuses on her in his hand, and the floor under his feet, but he doesn’t manage to get far. Just to the bookshelf down the hall before stumbling. Wilson puts her legs around his side, and she sits on his ribs. She’s big enough now to hold onto his collar, so he can just loop an arm under her bum and focus on walking. Wilson walks right beside them, and he manages to swing the cane the right way, and he’s walking. He’s carrying her from the hall into the kitchen, back down to the bathroom. He practices until his leg burns, and Bethany is whining for a bottle. 

He feels good, though. 

-

Of course, Cuddy had given Wilson time off to get his kid situated, but she only promised two months. So, he hires a nanny, and goes back to work. Every once in a while, the Nanny can’t make it, and Bethany has to come into work with him. Cuddy doesn’t love it, but she doesn’t yell at him too much, as long as it doesn’t happen a lot. 

Beth sits on the floor and plays with toys in her fathers office, until House steals her away. He walks slowly back to his office, ignoring Wilson’s shouts of protest, with her on his hip. She smiles at him, pulls on his scruff, pokes his adams apple. 

Cameron practically explodes when she sees him limping into the office. “Is that Wilson’s baby!?”

“Not yet, technically.” House states, hooking his cane on the back of Chase’s chair. House doesn’t even _sit down_ before Cameron is jumping into the next seat and trying to pull her away. 

“Hey, hey, she’s my playmate.” House protests, but turns so she can scoop the baby out of his lap. She holds her out in front of her, smiling and nodding, and House suddenly thinks that maternal instinct is gross. 

“Hello! Hello Bethany! Aren’t you gorgeous!” She googles, smiling bright. Beth pulls on her hair, and touches the gloss on her lips. When her fingers come back sticky, she looks down at them and makes a huff of protest. Cameron giggles as she wipes the kids fingers on her lab coat. Chase pulls his chair over, and Foreman hovers over Cameron’s shoulder. Bethany laughs and points, suddenly excited about the amount of people surrounding her. She touches Chase’s cheek, Foreman’s hand where it lays draped over Cameron's shoulder, before turning to look over at House. House stares at her, fighting back a smile. 

Wilson retrieves her just moments later, smiling at the sight of everyone making heart eyes at the kid, who just laughs along with them.

-

“I’m going to move out.” Wilson says in way of greeting when House get’s home. House is taken aback for a moment, turning and looking for the hidden camera. 

“You’re what now?” He asks, hooking his cane on the edge of wall that sticks out over the archway of the front door. 

Wilson looks scared, and he probably is, that’s why he burst out with that statement without saying hello first. Bethany is in a highchair across the living room, sucking on a bottle with her pink pyjamas on. House looks from her, to him, to his shaking hands. 

“Why?” House grills, taking a step closer to where Wilson is trying to hide behind the couch. 

Wilson takes a moment to steady himself before he answers. His voice is quiet, scared, but sure. It makes the words he says next mean so much more; “I want to adopt her.”

House doesn’t know why he’s shocked. It’s not like he hadn’t noticed she was here for the last two months, invading everything in his life. It’s that he’d enjoyed it. He didn’t want to loose that, and suddenly he was in fear of loosing Wilson too. 

“Let’s both move out.” House states, scared of his own voice. Wilson tips his head a bit. “Call your ex-wife, have her find us a three bedroom apartment on the north side, close to the hospital. Then…”

“House.” Wilson stops him, looking worn thin. “That’s not… going to work.” “What isn't?” House asks, eyes squinting in the low light of the room so late at night. 

“It’s not okay if you live with her, and have her grow up around you if you don’t really want to be a constant in her life.” Wilson explains with his shoulders slouched. 

House sputters for a moment, head spinning a little bit. “What if I want to be a constant?”

The look Wilson gives him is like nothing he’s ever seen. No, that’s wrong. He’s seen it once, back when they were at the convention they met at, before his leg muscles gave out. After getting damned drunk, they danced. Wilson’s coat flowing around his cut waist, hand holding House’s finger as he spins him, before their hands clasp again, laughing and swinging to the pop music playing. The song had stopped, and suddenly, it was just them. The yellow lights above played gorgeously across Wilson’s face as they stood too close. Wilson’s laugh had subsided, leaving a dashing sight behind. The one where he smiles with his eyes, and he stares up in wonder at House, who was even _more_ taller then him as he is without the limp. Wilson’s mouth had opened to suck in air, and House felt lighter then he had in years. Wilson had broke the trance by hugging him and laughing into his shoulder. Yelling that it was fun, and that House is a good dancer. House couldn’t really hear him, he was too focused on Wilson’s fast heart rate pressed against his own. Two birds fighting to be let out of their cage. 

Wilson stutters; “What?”

“Look. I like her, I don’t want her gone.” House tries, heart fast. “and, I don’t want you to feel alone.”

Wilson rounds the couch and hugs him. Arms tight and inclosed around him, breath hot on his neck. House rolls his hands into fists and holds them against his back. “Okay.” Wilson says. 

“Okay.” returns House, and he feels cold when Wilson lets go.

**(jump to year 1)**

He wakes to the sound of crying. 

It’s the same sound he’s heard every morning since Bethany came into his life, and it never gets better. This time, it’s right outside his bedroom door. Ever since they moved into the new condo, she's been in her own room, and she just cries herself out until she's bored of crying. But now, Wilson can picture her standing and leaning against the door, screaming until she can’t stand, for then she slumps to the floor and yells under the door frame. This must mean House got tired of her crying, and got her out of the crib. Since she can crawl, she makes her own way around. She just wants to be carried, but she knows not to tug on House’s pant leg, because he will not pick her up. He stumbles out of bed, takes a drink of water, and puts on his house coat before opening the door. She’s sitting up, red faced and just screaming. Wilson rubs a hand down his face, and reaches down to pick her up. She’s clearly hungry, and probably still tired, and stinks. He scoffs, and promises himself he will yell at House for this later. 

House; who is laying on the couch, with his big headphones on and a cereal bowl on his chest. With Bethany’s crying now just hiccups against Wilson’s collarbone, he can hear the loud rock music that was probably a perfect sound-track to her crying. Good thing Wilson doesn’t depend on him or anything. 

After Beth is changed and happily suckling at a bottle, he walks over to the couch where House is still resting, and has been for the past hour. Wilson takes a minute to wonder if he just left him, if he would stay in the same spot all hours of his day off. His hands go to his hips, its his business pose, and House knows this. One blue eye peaks open, then his hands move to remove his headphones. 

“If you want her to stop crying, maybe you could try holding her.”

“She doesn’t like me.”

“That’s not true. She just doesn’t know you.” House rolls his eyes, and picks up his phone to change the song, but doesn’t put his headphones back on. Wilson walks over and plucks Beth out of her highchair. She laughs and holds onto his shirt as he carries her. 

“Ok Beth, how about you sit with Uncle House while i have a shower? I won’t be long.” Wilson says to her, hoping House is listening, and when he plops the baby on House’s chest, and he looks up with terrified eyes, he knows he was listening. 

“No no no no…” House says, going to sit up, but Wilson just pushes him down, and walks off, yelling a “be right back!” over his shoulder. House yells his protests, before he hears the bathroom door slam shut, and House is left with the one year old. “I am not your uncle.” He forces, and lifts her so that he can sit comfortably, and rest her on his left thigh. 

She’s got blue eyes, and light blonde hair. She almost looks like she should be his kid, though not one of the three of them are related in anyway. He thinks of Wilson, brown hair and brown eyes, pressed shirts and long skinny ties, and then her, in hand-me-down overalls and green striped shirts, red rubber boots that she can’t seem to part from. He remembers the cooing noises and cutesy looks he gets when he walked down the hall to the vending machines with her on his hip. Her eyes are too wide, too curious and kind, her short hair is pulled into two ties off the sides of her head. She reaches up at pets at the edge of House’s jaw, where he knows he has a few days of stubble there. She pulls her hand back abruptly, and stares at her palm. She tips her head, before going back to her intensive study of his cheek. She makes a huff as she slides her fingers over his cheek to his chin, before removing her hand and laughing at him. She rocks back and House is quick to hold her so she doesn’t fall. She smiles at him, he smiles back. 

When Wilson gets out of the shower, and doesn’t hear any screaming, be deicides to get dressed and just towel dry his hair so it doesn’t drip on his shirt. When he finally gets out of his room, House is leaning over his thighs, holding Beth’s hands, making her stand on the floor between his feet. 

“Babies should be able to stand on their own at twelve months.” House states dryly.  
“She’s just slow.” Wilson says, and goes to make a coffee, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach.  



	2. year 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> she's two! she can talk and walk and calls wilson dada and calls house hoss and life is good!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im @ghostycas on tumblr if you wanna hit me up

Wilson unbuckles her from her carseat and lifts her into his arms. “I wasn’t teasing you… I was just observing.” He says to House, who’s parking his bike in the handicap spot, two over from Wilson’s volvo. 

“It seemed pretty teasing to me.” House says, pulling his helmet off and looping it over his arm.

“I was simply explaining how…”

“My bike is an old man’s bike…” House finishes for him. Wilson rolls his eyes as he pushes his brief case towards House, forcing him to hold it for him. He pulls Beth’s diaper-bag-backpack onto his shoulder, while brushing hair from her eyes. 

Together, they walk up the stairs of the parkade and into the main doors. They keep up their easy conversation about the motorcycle, and Wilson tries to ignore the nurses looking at him, and how Beth is pulling on his ear. 

Cuddy’s voice is a shrill alarm bell from behind them; “Wilson!” Both men stop in their tracks, and Wilson feels his shoulders slouch. He knows Cuddy hates it when he brings Bethany to work, but the nanny can’t make it on Thursdays. He refuses to leave her at a daycare, because he knows first handedly that those places are crawling with germs and drool and runny noses. No way is he leaving his daughter there. 

Her hands on her hips as she turns around. 

“It’s Thursday…?” He says in say of greeting. 

“She can’t be upstairs unattended.” 

  “I know how to take care of her, Lisa. Plus, House or the team are always willing to help if i have to leave in a rush.” He explains, ignoring how House tenses beside him. He holds the toddler closer to him, her blonde head pillowed on his shoulder. 

“I’m not going to allow this for much longer.” Cuddy states, pointing an incriminating finger in his direction. 

“Not everyone can be a stay at home mom!!” House yelled over Wilsons shoulder, before grabbing his arm and pulling him to the elevators. He rolls his eyes and pretends Cuddy can see it. 

Wilson looks defeated. He doesn’t say anything the whole ride up, just holds Bethany and nods to House before leaving, and rushes to his office. House tries to ignore it. 

Chase has his feet on the table, Cameron has a pencil behind her ear and Foreman’s mug is steaming from between his hands. He pulls off his backpack and his coat, and realizes he’s still holding Wilson’s brief case. He groans, loud and obnoxiously, but only half of the fellowship looks up at him, Foreman just stays staring at whatever he’s reading. House goes to step outside, with the other man’s bag in hand, before said man is standing on the other side of the glass. 

“Oh.” says House, before pulling the door open to let Wilson and Bethany into the office. 

“Hi Bethany.” Cameron beams, wiggling her fingers. They watch as she hides herself behind Wilson’s leg as him and House talk. “Hi.” She says, casting her blue eyes to the floor. 

“Would you like a snack, hun? Dr. Chase brought muffins, and I think we have juice boxes.” She tells her, gesturing for the kid to come with her hand. Beth shakes her head, digging her face into Wilson’s thigh. Wilson puts a hand on her head, and turns to lift her up. She curls into him, and Cameron watches as she relaxes into him. Him and House are still talking, something about Cuddy. House pushes at him until the three of them are outside the glass, and away from Cameron’s ears. 

“What’s with them?” Foreman asks, tipping his head in their direction. Cameron shrugs, and turns back to her papers. 

“I want to spend all the time I can with her.” Wilson says behind the glass.  
 “I understand that.” House mutters, giving him a soft smile. Wilson nods, and so does House. They part with House patting his shoulder. Cameron casts her eyes away as he walks back into the room. 

 - 

House imagines his eyes shrivelling up from starring at his computer screen for too long, he almost can’t see who rushes to his office door, yells “bad reaction!” before dropping a much smaller someone in the room.  
Beth walks over to where he’s sitting. “Hoss?” She tries. 

“What.”

“I sit?” She asks, patting his knee. 

“No. Hurts, remember.” House tells her, turning away from her hands.   “Oh. Hurts.” She quotes. “Where’s Dada?”

House rolls his eyes. “He’s out being a doctor.” She nod, before running to the other side of the room, her pink dress swirling around her tight-clad legs. She touches the books sitting in the far bookshelf, before running back. “Where your toys?” 

House closes his eyes to steady himself. He turns, pulling a small box of colourful blocks and toy cars out from under the desk. He stands, and holds out his hand for her to hold. He ignores the look Chase is shooting him as he walks to plant her on the brown chair in the corner of the room. She sits quietly on the seat, pulling at the blocks and trying to stand them on the arm rest. 

“What do you say?” House asks in his tough voice. It’s a phrase said often in the apartment, because Wilson is trying to get her to be thankful.  
 “Thank you House.” She says, though it sounds like “fank you Hoss.” It’s still a gratitude, and Wilson would be happy. 

She’s done with the blocks after ten minutes, and moves to driving the plastic cars around the room, shuffling on her knees and one hand while the other pushes the car. She vroom’s and woah’s as she drives the car under House’s glass desk, over his shoes and under his chair legs. After the sound effects get too loud, House turns to her, ordering “Bethany, be quiet.” over his shoulder. Her face scrunches up, before she lets out a wail. Her eyes squeeze close and her mouth opens to cry out, her face getting red and angry. 

House doesn’t know what to do. 

He looks over to the fellow’s in the outer office, before looking down at her. She’s sitting on her knees, scream-crying and suddenly, House wishes Wilson would tell him what to do. Wilson would tell him to pick her up and hold her, say he’s sorry. He tries to lean down and pick her up, but she kicks her little two-year-old legs out, flailing her arms to get away from him. 

Suddenly, Chase is at his rescue. “Hey, Beth, hey.” He calms, pulling her out of House’s hands. “Do you want to go find your dad? Yeah?” He asks, rubbing her back and letting her cry against his shoulder. “Yeah, lets go find dad, okay? You’re okay, it’s okay buddy.” He soothes, walking out of the glass office. 

House is stunned. He turns to his desk before leaning over to pick up the car she was playing with. He puts it on the desk, staring at it like it was the one to make Beth cry, not him. He pushes out of the desk, grabbing his coat and heads for the roof. 

 

“Wilson!” House shouts as he enters the apartment. He stuck around to make sure Cameron had done all his needed paper work, and had stopped to refill his Vicodin bottle. 

“Yep.” Wilson responds, and his voice carries from his bedroom. 

“Go out.” House demands.  
 “Pardon?”

“Go out for drinks, find a cute blonde, take her to a hotel.” He explains, using loud hand gestures to try and convoy his point of Wilson doing whatever he wants to. 

Wilson only squints, and tips his head. “Are you offering to babysit?” 

House breathes in through his nose. “Yes.”

“…Why?”

“Because my team looks at me like I'm a kid killer. I’m gonna make her like me.”

The smile he gets in return calms all his nerves. He can do this.

 

Wilson had been gone for almost two hours now, and House is starting to wonder how long Beth is willing to play tea party for. Beth sets her doll — Polly or Lolly, or something — in the chair beside the table. House has his hands neatly folded, set on the red plastic table. He’s sat on his knee, with his bad leg stretched out. Beth puts her stuffed dog on the other chair, before taking the seat beside it. House had never realized how much work had to be done to have a tea party. 

Bethany is only two. Her hair is short, and pulled into a loose pony tail at the back of her head. She pours fake water into House’s tiny plastic cup, and makes him fake drink it. She is talking to the toys, and maybe to House, but he can’t really understand her. Her eyes are very blue, he notices, maybe that’s why Wilson tells her to keep her hair out of her face, because he likes to see her baby blues. 

“Bethany, would you like to go play in the living room?” House asks, finding himself talking like he’s being recorded. 

“Wha’ ‘bout tea?” She asks, her eyes go wider and her arms fly up, before falling back down against her sides. 

“You can bring it, if you wanna’.” House reports, shrugging. She seems happy with this answer. She stands and waits for House to stand as well, before holding his pinkie and following him out of her pink bedroom. 

“You wanna watch a movie?” House wonders, looking down at her.”

She shakes her head, rushing off to start smacking the piano bench. 

“Hey woah woah…” House yelps, scaring her out of the beating of the poor bench. “You want to try?”

She nods happily, and he slides into the seat, pulling her up to kneel on the seat beside him. She tucks her feet under herself, reaching to push a few keys experimentally. The deep sound rings through the quiet, empty apartment, and she recoils a bit. She pushes another, with more force, before turning her finger into a fist, and beating on House’s baby grand piano. He reaches over, patiently placing her finger on the d cord, pressing down until the note sings. She tries again, but hits the key next to it. She pouts, sticking her bottom lip out and folding her arms. House laughs a little, in the back of his throat. He plays a few cords, an easy song that he can play without looking. The kid reaches up and pushes a key, and House focuses on not getting thrown off. She uses his shoulder to haul herself up, and, now kneeling, she can reach his hands. She strokes a finger over his as they play, curious. Then she puts her whole hand on top of his. His fingers stop for a moment, before continuing, playing the soft tune as her tiny hands try to mimic the movement. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he thinks Wilson would have liked to see this. 

They move to sit on the couch, and Beth yells at the hockey players on TV when they get too loud. She falls asleep leaning on the arm rest, and he falls asleep leaning on the other. 

Wilson gets in an hour later, with his hair newly cut, dragging grocery bags. The sound of the key in the lock wakes House, but not Bethany, so he leans up on an elbow, watching him unpack his food. 

“I knew you wouldn’t go to a bar.” He states dryly. 

“I knew you wouldn’t burn the building down, aren't we a smart team?” Wilson snarks, smiling over his shoulder as he puts the milk away. 

“Okay, well come carry this kid to bed.”

“You’re a bit big to be carried now, House.” Wilson jokes as he walks over, lifting Beth by her shoulders and the bend of her knees. 

“Goodnight, House.” Wilson whispers, carrying the girl away. 

“Goodnight.” House responds, smiling to himself.


	3. year 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No getting shot, no ketamine treatment, just so you know. Season three btw.

“Can I get this?” Bethany asks, holding up a box of Oreo cookies. 

“No, babe, and you can’t just walk off like that.” Answers Wilson, pulling the box from her hands. She crosses her arms over her chest and refuses to hold his hand. Wilson tugs her across the bread aisle by the hood of her jacket. 

They meet House around the corner, his arms full of junk food and snacks. Wilson rolls his eyes so hard, his head falls backwards. He dumps the bright coloured bags and packages into the cart. Beth stands on her toes at the sight of the blue box with the black and white cookie on it falling into the cart. She pulls on the edge of House’s shirt, until he scoops her up to let her have a better look. She grabs the Oreo’s up, and turns in his arms.   “We’re not allowed to get these.” She says, holding it up in front of House. 

“I make my own rules.” He replies, putting his weight on his left leg so he can reach up and grab the box from her hand. He throws it in the cart while Wilson is distracted by the many flavours of yogurt. 

“Can I have some if we get ‘em?” She asks as House drops her to the ground. 

House shrugs while nodding, but then puts his finger to his lips, and then points to Beth’s father. She giggles before putting her own finger to her lips, and reaching to grab his hand. House still finds it cute how small her hands are, so small they wrap only around his index finger, or sometimes his pinkie. He pulls her along as Wilson pushes the cart to look at the cheese. 

 

They’re on the floor with the food splayed in front of them. 

“Wha’s this say?” Beth asks him, holding up a green bag 

“Jolly ranchers.” House reads to her, before pulling one side of the bag, helping her open it. She pulls open the candy and licks it. Her face contorts into disgust, and House laughs. 

“Sour?” She nods. “It’s cus’ you picked green apple, those are always sour.”

Together, they each have a bite of the many different snacks House bought, until Wilson is calling them to the kitchen with a “House! Bethany! Dinner!” 

House’s tongue is blue, and Beth’s purple, but if Wilson notices, he doesn’t even ask. 

 

Wilson is currently holding the hand of a 62 year old man while he tells him he’s dying, so House lets Bethany roam the outer office with his team. All three of them are working on finding a case, but House continues to shoot them down. 

House is writing monthly paycheques, sitting across from Chase, who is watching him intently. 

“House, House, House.” Bethany bothers, pulling on the edge of his jacket. He tunes her out, until she starts to push on his thigh, and he jumps a little bit. Her little hand pushes at his right leg, away from his scar, but close enough to earn his attention. “What?” He asks, looking down at her. 

“Can we play?”  “No, bud, I’ve gotta finish this.”

Beth pouts, “why?”   “Because this is a part of my job.”

She groans. “Lets play race!” She says, pulling at his jacket, trying to climb on him. 

“Nope, but…” He fights, pushing her off. “I’m sure Dr. Foremen would like to play.” House states, looking over at the man flipping through a national geographic magazine. House raises his eyebrows at his angry pout, before watching as he stands, and takes Bethany away from him. 

“Okay, lets play race.” He says, setting her down. She cheers, and starts off running. Foreman follows. They run through the glass door to House’s office, then to the hall, then down to the elevators, and down the other hall, dodging other doctors and their patients. Foreman yells his sorry’s, telling them to yell at House instead. The pair run back around the block until they are back at House’s office, where Foreman runs through House’s door, and Bethany runs through the outer office door. He runs through to try and win against her, but as soon as he stops, he watches her red rubber boot catch on the edge of the carpet, and face-plant into the ground. 

The whole room gasps. Foreman instantly goes to scoop her up and hold her, when she cries out. He lifts her from the ground, pressing her into his chest. House is standing in an instant, her little arms reach out to grab as House walks to them. House takes her from him, and her arms wrap tightly around his neck, her face crying against his collarbone. House helps her wrap her legs around his waist and holds her back. The whole time hushing and shushing her, petting her hair. 

Chase is amazed, Foreman is pitiful and Cameron is a little bit in love. 

House takes a seat in the chair he was in, resting her against his good thigh so she won’t feel his scar, her arms tighten, then loosen and she curls into a ball against his chest. House wraps one arm and half of his suit jacket around her, petting her side. Her cries have quieted, but she seems reluctant to let go. He half holds her, and tries to finish his work. 

 

Wilson comes in a bit later to find his daughter wrapped tightly around his best friend-turned-coparent. He smiles half heartedly, sitting down across from them. 

“What’s happened to you?” 

“I fell down, Daddy!” She whines, starting up her crying again.  
 “Oh dear.” Wilson mutters, “Looks like House took good care of you.” He smiles at her as she nods, before thanking House, and taking her out of his grip. He sits in the chair across from House, setting Beth on his lap. She curls into him, like she had with House, and he doesn't know how to feel about that. 

“Lunch?” House asks lightly. 

“Please.” Wilson tremors, lifting his daughter into his arms. 

 

The elevator dings open, and Beth runs out, despite Wilsons attempts at grabbing her, her poka-dotted shirt and too-big jeans are swooshing behind her as she dashes. She runs until she lands face first into a nurse’s leg as he pushes a wheel chair. She tells him sorry and he tells her not to worry, and its an overall innocent interaction. That is until Cuddy is storming around the front desk. 

“Wilson!” She half yells. “Did I just see Bethany _running_ in the lobby?”

Wilson breathes in, prepared to deal with this in a calm matter, until he sees the way his daughter’s shoulders are hunched, hands clasped protectively over her stomach as she backs up to hide behind him. He puts a hand on her back to steady her, and opens his mouth to speak, before House beats him to it. 

“Oh, _really Cuddy?”_ He starts. “You’re gonna yell at the guy for taking care of his kid, and doing his job, and keeping both under control?”

“That didn’t look under control to me.” Cuddy fumes, hands on her hips. 

“He’s doing his best.” House hisses at her, eyes squeezing into slits, standing at his full hight. Wilson stands behind him, his chin up and jaw set. 

“Wilson, get this kid in a school, or a daycare, frankly, I don’t care, as long as she’s not here.” Cuddy demands, and House recoils a bit. 

“And you.” She beckons with the point of an incriminating finger. “Ten clinic hours this week. I don’t care what you were about to do, go get them done. Now.”

The men relax momentarily as she walks away. Wilson is quick to take a knee beside Beth and tell her that Cuddy was just being mean, and that it wasn’t her fault. 

House _stomps_ to the clinic. 

 

“I was waiting two hours, out there.” The man says in way of greeting. His hands are already fiddling with his belt buckle, and all House can think is _ew._

“Fascinating. Have you considered a career as a memoirist?” House sasses. He honestly can’t deal with prissy patients today, not after what just happened with Cuddy and Wilson’s little girl. “Let’s see it.” He says, all doctor-y and shit.

The man, _Michael Tritter,_ starts to unbuckle his belt, leaving it hanging by the loops. “You don’t introduce yourself?”

“Sorry, thought you were waiting two hours? Didn’t know you wanted to chat… Hi, I’m Greg, how about that local sports team?!” He fakes. 

_Michael Tritter_ whips out his dick like he’s proud of the excessive amounts of dry skin flaking it. House only has to look for a moment, thankfully, and already knows its because of the nicotine gum the man his clicking between his tongue. “It’s not an infection.”

“How can you tell? Without…”

“You want me to touch you?” House clucks, “It’s your private place…”

 _Michael Tritter_ doesn’t seem happy with this inquiry. 

“You’re chewing nicotine gum, which causes dehydration, which causes wear and tear. Try a lubricant… Or foreplay if you’re cheap.” House tells him, rubbing his temple and scribbling on his sheet.

“Just take a swab and get it tested, alright?” Michael Tritter bosses, like he went to med school. 

“Sorry! Already met this months quota of useless tests for stubborn idiots.” He croaks, popping a Vicodin. 

Tritter smiles wickedly. House can see it from the corner of his eye, and suddenly he wishes he had grabbed that kid by her elbow and carried her to the cafeteria instead. “You’re rude.” Says Tritter, his right eyebrow would be up to his hairline, if he still had one.

“Wow. You’re like… A detective or something.” House snaps, not making eye contact. 

“And you’re smart.” Tritter states, and it makes House’s blood boil, for some reason. “And you’re funny. But you are bitter. And you’re lonely. So you treat everyone like they’re idiots. And you get away with it.” He says, before adding; “cause’ of your cane.” 

“Please stop. Its hard to write through the haze of bitter tears.” House plays along.

“But you’re not actually getting away with it.” He continues, and House thinks to the lobby with Cuddy, thinks maybe Tritter saw. “Last nurse you made fun of, probably slipped some crap into your coffee.” 

House slams the case file closed. “Nah. I asked for de-crappinated coffee.” He stands, and takes one step before he’s crashing into the door as Tritter kicks his cane out from under him. He recoils a bit, turning and feeling very frightened, like Bethany when she got yelled at by Cuddy.

Tritter doesn’t even look at him. He just chews his gum, his grey-white head turned downward. “Treat people like jerks, you get treated like a jerk.” He says, simply, like he’s talking to a school bully or something. He fixes his tie and stares straight forward, while House is still breathing heavily, slumped against the door. 

House rights himself, and looks his opponent over. He gives in, taking a careful step to the desk before grabbing a swap stick. Tritter bobbles his head side to side as he removes his pants again. House is sure to press hard to the sensitive flesh, and pull the stick off with a scrape. 

“Thank you.” Says Tritter, looking rather pleased. House looks up at him with a domineering gaze, even if it is a bit afraid still. 

“Bend over.” House commands, and theres nothing funny in the way he says it. Like if a junior high school student heard his tone, they wouldn’t laugh at the crude language. They’d probably run away, if they knew what was best for them. But obviously, Tritter didn’t know what was coming. He just smirks and says “Are you kidding me?”

“If you have an infection, then you’d have a fever. But you’re chewing nicotine gum, which messes with the weather in your mouth, so I need to… vacation elsewhere.” House explains, holding up a thermometer 

Tritter takes a big breath in, before turning and dropping his pants to his ankles. He cringes as House touches his back, a step he’s gotta do before touching anyone below the boxer line. Then, with a quick flick of House’s hand and a surprised gasp from Tritter, there's suddenly no more thermometer in sight. 

“You break it, you buy it.” House reports, before gathering his files and cane, and leaving Tritter with a thermometer in his ass.

-

Wilson helps a 47 year old down. He’s angry, he thought she was going to make it. House drives Bethany home that night. 

Sirens yell behind the car. House didn’t even realize he was speeding. He pulls over and rolls the window down, like anyone should, but when he sees who gets out of the car, he almost wants to roll it back up and hide in the backseat with Beth. 

“If you’ve come to return the thermometer, don’t bother. I’ve moved on.” House tells him, turning off the radio. 

“If you’d actually read my chart…” Michael tritter greets, opening a police badge and flashing it in House’s face. “You’d have known that I’m a cop.”

House looks down at his knees. 

“You were going 40, in a 25 zone.”

“Oh come on!” House barks. “This isn't because I was speeding…This is because I’m latino.”

“Step out of the vehicle.” Tritter demands, and House quickly glances in the back seat. 

Tritter stops. “Is there something back there you don’t want me to see?”

House steadies himself, pushing the button that rolls down the back seat window a few inches, revealing the three year old trapped in her car seat.

“What do we have here!?” Tritter chuckles, leaning forward into the window, but House rolls it up before he can get close to her. “That your kid, Greg?”

House locks the doors, ignoring the question. Pulling his bad leg out of the car door, he stands, ignoring Beth’s cries of “House! Where you going?!”

“License and registration.” Commands Tritter, and House turns to look for it. He shoves his hands into his front backpack pocket, searching, before panicking, remembering it’s still in the pocket on his bike. 

“Sorry…” He fakes. “Cool jacket, only room for important things.”

“That’s a shame.” Tritter says, before looking down at the girl in the backseat. House becomes uneasy, and steps in front of the window, blocking her from him. Tritter writes on his pad, and House feels Beth’s hand slap the glass. 

“$50 ticket… Is that your way of beating me up?” House asks, honestly unsure. “Or is that just the price for sticking something in you.” 

“You took a pill while you were… examining a patient. That’s serious addictive behaviour.” Tritter explains, and House feels his shoulder slouch. “I bet that you’re holding right now.”

“I wasn’t weaving, I’m not drunk, I got a kid in the back seat for God sakes.” House counteracts. “You have no reason to—”

“Pupils dilated, appeared to be under the influence of narcotics.” Tritter says like he’s reading from a script. “Would you mind turning around, please, putting your hands behind your head.”

“In front of the girl? Really?” House presses, but Tritter grabs his shoulders and spins him, pinning him against the window that Bethany is starring through. He forces his hands above his head, and House sets his jaw. 

“Most people realize there’s only one answer.” Tritter talks as he pats House down. He reaches around the left side of House’s jacket, hand grabbing the pill bottle inside, knuckles cold as they graze House’s bare skin where the jacket as ridden up. He puts his hand in his pocket, pulling out the bottle. 

“Got a prescription?” Tritter asks.

“I’m a cripple, with a three year old, who works in a hospital. You don’t think I can get a valid prescription?” 

“Arrogant son of a bitch like you? I bet you didn’t bother.” Tritter accuses, breath hot on House’s neck. He shivers, in fear and nothing else. “You are under arrest… for possession of narcotics. You have the right to remain silent.” Barks Tritter. “Which you should take advantage of, for once in your life.” He locks House’s hands behind his back. “If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you…” 

House doesn’t even breathe. Tritter pushes him to the car, the whole time, House yelling about Bethany. 

“Don’t you fucking touch her! Please! Let me call her Dad! Please!” He screams as Tritter stomps off to the car. He scoops the girl up, who doesn’t fight him, but tears fall down her cheeks. “Give her to me! Please let me have her!” He begs, yelling as loud as he can. Tritter practically throws Beth into the passenger seat, before calling it in on his walkie. 

Beth cries, House would too, if he wasn't out of breath. 

 

House spends the evening in a cell. Wilson picked Bethany and the car up only an hour after House had been picked up, when Beth had cried herself to sleep wrapped in House’s bike jacket. 

A man sings about having a baby, drunk out of his mind, and House shivers. He jumps up, careful of his leg. 

“Excuse me! It’s 11:00! I shouldn’t be here! Hey! I know you can hear me!” House yells, the man behind him continues to sing. 

The door unlocks, and Tritter comes strolling in, warm coffee and a different coloured outfit. “You need time to think of some more?” He asks with a scowl. 

“Either arraign me, or let me go.” House barks. 

“Sure, which do you prefer?” Tritter asks, and stares at him. House’s breathes are harder to take now. 

Wilson is standing outside, hands crossed over his chest. He doesn’t ask what happened, House doesn’t ask how he got the money, he just asks if Bethany slept alright, and Wilson ignores him.

 

House sits in the chair next to Wilson in the lab. 

“Since when do you eat beats?”

"Since I was little…?” Wilson answers, clicking his tongue. 

House doesn’t speak for a moment. “How was Beth?”

“She didn't sleep much, unless she was in _my_ bed, kept asking where you were, kept saying you were hurt. You should call the lawyer.”

“Wilson, you know I would never…”  “I know House. The only reason I was upset this morning is because I was tired, and Beth cried when I left her with the nanny.” Wilson explains. “I know you’d never put her in danger.” 

House looks at his knees. He leaves, scuffing Wilsons hair as he walks. 

 

House drives the bike home carefully. No speeding, he has his licence, he doesn’t swerve once. 

The condo is empty. No Bethany, or Nicky —the nanny— in sight, though it’s nearly six. Someone is always home by six, so Nicky can get home at a decent time. She doesn’t have kids of her own to get home too, but she always likes to leave on time. 

The house, however, has been ripped apart. Someones rip through the desk in the corner of the room, the dinning room table covered in papers, books everywhere. He looks around the corner into Beth’s room to make sure no one is there. There’s no sign that anyone went in there except a bunch of blocks tipped onto the floor, but surely she could have done that herself. 

Michael Tritter has his stupid face in House and Wilson’s bathroom cabinet. 

“40 years old, still lives with a roommate.” Tritter says. “Or is he your… Boyfriend? Husband?” House doesn’t answer, he doesn’t move his eyes from starring daggers into him. 

“How’d you two get that little girl anyways? Your wife run away? You steal her from the maternity ward?” Tritter teases. “Really, I want to know.”

House’s eyes shorten into slits. “She’s Wilson’s.”

“And… Wilson, that's James Wilson, right? Brown hair? Cute brown eyes?” Tritter crows. “Met him at the hospital the other day. You must be a lucky man.” 

House sets his jaw, hands clenching into fists. “I am.” He says, not caring how Tritter takes it. He is lucky to have Wilson in his life, even more lucky to have Beth. Another police man comes out from the dining room, his hands full of a ziplock bag, full of pill bottles. 

“Theres gotta be over 600 Vicodin in here.” Tritter says as he takes the bag from the other cop. “Which most DA’s would say proves to intent to traffic, even if you are just planning to be wasted 24/7 while practicing medicine.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, those are prescription bottles. Now, I’m not an expert on linguistics, per say, but I think that means they were prescribed.” House smarts, moving away from the man to start pulling the books from the ground. 

He shakes the bag. The pills rattle. “All these, were legally prescribed? To you, a man in constant pain, but never misses a day of work?”

“Ever occur to you that’s _why_ I don't miss a day?” 

“Yeah.” Tritter says, aha-ing in this throat. “Among other things, like what an unprofessional, arrogant ass you are.” He looks down at the pills. “Maybe just, a _few_ of these are in someone else's name. Like a… forged prescription or just, taken from the pharmacy when no one’s looking. But… you wouldn’t do that? Right? You got a kid, you gotta’ make good choices?” 

House stares at him, even at his full hight, Tritter is taller. “How would she do… If you went to jail?” He asks, tipping his head, smiling a bit, before leaving. Marching out of the condo, taking the pills with him, leaving his mess behind. 

 

“Yeah. Okay, he’s an ass sometimes, and has no problem lying when it helps him, but he’s not lying about the pain.” Wilson says, voice sure. A storm rages outside his office window. Detective Tritter is standing at the end of his desk. 

Bethany is wrapped in a blanket on the couch, headphones on, playing a game on Wilson’s phone. Nicky had dropped her off after their day at the zoo when it started to rain. 

“I prescribe all of it. He needs the meds.” Wilson explains. 

“Ive seen lots of cases, people with injuries who spiral out of control, and get addicted to pain killers.” Tritter says, pulling out a chair and sitting across from Wilson. “Lives get ruined, and not just their own.”  Wilson laughs a bit, because _honestly?_ “I don’t know what else to tell you.”   “Bethany, right?” Tritter asks, tipping his head towards the girl on the couch. “That’s her name?” 

Wilson nods. 

“How old is she?”

Wilson raises his eyebrows. “Three.”

“She’s adopted, right?” Tritter asks, and Wilson is not sure why. He squints at him, but Tritter is a wall, not breaking under his gaze. Wilson looks down at his hands and wonders why he’s still here. Why he didn’t just leave the moment the horrible man walked into his office, the one who locked his daughter in a police station, taking the only person she trusts other then her father, and ripped him away from her.

“Yes.” Wilson says, feeling nauseous.

“No mother?”   Wilson feels his heart clench. “She… has me.”

“And House?”

  “Yes.” Says Wilson.

“He ever, take pills in front of her? She’s very impressionable at this age.” Tritter states.

“No.” Wilson insures. “House is a good man.”

Tritter looks down at his lap. He pulls up the yellow folder and places it in front of Wilson. 

“If it has my name on it, it’s legit.” Wilson states, pushing away from the table. 

Tritter smiles. “Well, the signatures on these, look very different from the signatures on those.” Wilson stares down at them, noting how his own signature is large and swooping, while the others are small and tight. 

“You look surprised.” 

Wilson shrugs, playing cool. “They’re all my name. I must sign it differently sometimes.” 

Tritter laughs. “Alright… I’m gonna give you a moment to reconsider that answer.”

Wilson throws up his hands. “I’m sure, but I do need to get going, it’s almost bed time.”

“Alright. I guess, that’s it.” Says Tritter as Wilson stands and walks to the couch. He lifts Beth, who curls into his shoulder. 

“See you later, Bethany.” Tritter says, wiggling his fingers in a way that freaks even Wilson out. Beth turns away from him.

He leaves without another breath.

-

“How many pills would you say Dr. House takes a day?” Asks Detective Tritter. 

“I’m uncomfortable setting a number… Six.” Says Dr. Alison Cameron. 

“It’s hard to say. Pain levels vary over time. Could be six, eight, ten…” Explains Dr. Robert Chase. 

“House is an ass, but he obviously needs pain medication. How much pain a person feels isn’t a decision the government should be making.” Says Dr. Eric Foreman. “

-  
 “Has he ever asked you to write a prescription for his medication?” Tritter asks. 

“No. What do you want me to say here?” Barks Cameron.

“Yes? He asks me too.” Shrugs Chase. 

“Really hope my patient doesn’t _die_ while I'm sitting here.” Foreman snarks. 

-

Wilson is not allowed to write prescriptions. 

His assets have been seized, his bank accounts frozen, 

He takes the deal. 

“Get out of my office.” House demands, but Wilson just stands. 

“I spoke with the DA, he agreed to two months in a rehab facility.” Tritter says from across the room. “In exchange for a guilty plea.”

 _”Get out of my office.”_ Demands House, angry. 

“No jail time.” Wilson tries to explain. 

“Oh, no jail, just a different place I don’t belong!”

“I got you on forgery, and fraud.” Barks Tritter. 

“No sanctions on the medical board!” Wilson tries. 

 “Right. And you get your car back, and your bank accounts, and your tumor-ridden patients.” 

Wilson laughs. “I did this to help you.” 

“Next christmas, just buy me a sweater.” House mocks. 

“You punched Chase! Almost cut a little girl in half and made my daughter ride in a police car because you were too strung out…!” 

“I was in pain! I’m still in pain!” House yells. Tritter starts talking, but he can’t even hear him over the blood rushing to his ears. Wilson turned him in. Wilson betrayed him. House helps parent Wilson’s kid and Wilson gives him over to the police like he’s nothing. 

_”Get out of my office.”_ and they do.

“You have three days to decide.” Tritter growls on the way out. House punches the wall. 

-

House goes to his old apartment that night. He sleeps on the couch. He cuts his arm with a razor to relieve the pain of detoxing. Cameron shows up, he sends her away. Wilson calls, he doesn’t answer. 

He shows up to work, Wilson gives him a speech. Wilson doesn’t give him pills, so he steals them. He goes home. 

-

“I can’t testify.” Wilson tells Tritter. “Drug addicts hurt the ones around them with their addiction.”

“He’s hurt plenty of people. Including you, and you’re daughter.” Tritter reasons. 

“He saves people. Including me and Bethany.” Wilson tells him. “He’s a positive force in the universe. Statistically. Pills let him function, so he can do that. I won’t testify against him.” and tries to leave. 

“Then we’ll subpoena you.” Tritter says. “Use your evidence, and you will be charged with interfering with an investigation. Your daughter will be taken from you. And you will go to jail.” 

Wilson scoffs, and leaves. 

-

House meets a little girl in a wheel chair. He’s high on stolen pain meds, and the girls stuffed dog is actually a bear. 

She reminds him of Bethany. 

He misses Bethany. 

-

“Christmas eve.” Wilson reminds him. 

“Yep.”

“You gonna come by? She’s been asking for you.” Wilson says, and fuck, when did they become a family?

“Deal expires tomorrow.” 

“So you… Don’t wanna come over and see her?”

“She’s not mine.” Says House, and it hurts. It stings, he can see it on Wilson’s face that it hurt him too. He doesn’t really care. He kinda hopes he dies before tomorrow morning. 

-

House drinks, calls his mom, calls Wilson and tells Bethany he loves her, and drowns in the last two oxycodone pills. 

Wilson is there, He obviously knew something was wrong, because of the phone call, or maybe he accidentally told Wilson he was going to kill himself, he doesn’t remember. 

He does, however, remember Wilsons hands. They're soft and warmer then he is, grabbing and turning him from his spot of the floor. He reads the label on the bottle, before throwing it across the room.  
 Wilson goes home, and sleeps with Bethany pressed to his side. The hanukkah candles burn in the living room, protecting them. “Will House come back?” She asks. Wilson kisses her head, and falls asleep wondering the same damn thing. 

House gets up, cleans himself up and drives to Tritter’s office. 

“I’m ready to take the deal.” He says. 

“Well thats off the table.” Tritter explains with a smile. “Got new evidence.”

-

“It wasn’t oxycodone.” Says Cuddy on the witness stand.

“You testified…” 

“I know. But it wasn’t oxycodone.” She repeats. Sure of her words. “Dr. Wilson informed me that that Dr. House already tried to steal the pain medication of this patient. Which made clear to me that Dr House was in a desperate state. So I went to the pharmacy, and swapped bottles. Dr House… Stole a bottle of placebos. I have it right here on the inventory report.”   
The room starts yelling. House looks in disbelief at Cuddy, then to Wilson, who’s eyes are soft and kind.

“The witness is excused. Dr. House please stand.” The Judge says, and he does as told. 

“My suspicion is you have better friends then you deserve. Rules; apply to everyone. You’re not special. Detective Tritter, I’m not sure what’s going on between you two, but I know that this man is _not_ flooding the streets with cocaine. And I also know that he must have done something to set you off. But, you're gonna’ have to live with it. I’m not going to allow this to proceed to jury. Case _dismissed.”_

It takes a second for everything to settle. House smiles at his feet, covers it up by rolling his lower lip into his mouth. He’s going to be okay. He’s going to go home with Wilson, he’s going to see Beth and he’s going to keep his job. 

He may not be special, but he always, somehow, wins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> most of the lines between house and tritter were taken straight from the show; ep 3x5 to 3x11
> 
> I never really liked cuddy, idk. I didn't like how she let her love for house prevent her from doing her job? and ya Wilson shouldn't bring his kid to work and I think I just needed a house cuddy fight scene. idk arrest me.
> 
> fuck tritter. house is in love. my fingers are broken, so goodnight everyone!


	4. year 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> spoilers- season 4x3 - 97 seconds, and the rest of season 4 
> 
> i switched stuff up, like that house gets shocked after tom dies and stuff. hope you enjoy!

Wilson gets home at 7PM, and House is no where to be seen. 

Nicky and Bethany are cooking… something. Honestly, he doesn’t want to know. Beth is up on the tabletop with a container of rainbow sprinkles while Nicky spreads whatever it is all over whatever the other thing is. He thinks its one big cookie? Very thin cake? Whatever. 

“Daddy, you have’ta see what we’re making!” Beth shouts as he toes off his shoes. 

“I will, I’ll come look just one second.” He responds, hanging his coat. He goes around the corner and sets his brief case on the dining room table. 

“House take the bike?” Nicky asks, curly, ash blonde hair in front of her face. Beth licks the spoon that she’s using to spread the icing on what Wilson can now see as a big square cookie. Kids are gross sometimes. 

“Uh, yeah… I don’t know where he is. I’ll call him.” Wilson worries, leaning over to kiss Beth’s head. He gives Nicky a shoulder pat as he walks by her. “You leaving right away?”

“Uh, does our masterpiece look done yet, James?” She teases, gesturing to the mess. 

He laughs. “No, I guess not. I’ll be right back then.” He says, dashing to his room.

He dresses in his sweats, hoping House won’t call him to come pick him up anywhere. With his mind on House, he calls him. It goes to voicemail, his baritone voice saying; “I’m probably here, I just don't want to talk to you.” He hasn’t seen him all day, and hopes he’s alright.

Beth runs into the room as he’s leaving a message. “Daddy! Come try our cookie!” She yells as he tucks the phone under his ear. “Yeah, uh hi, House, just wondering if you’ll be home soon, and I think…hey hey, alright i’m coming… Uh, I think ill make pasta, text me if you want some.”

He lets Beth hand him the cookie with the most sprinkles on it, and has him worrying about his cholesterol as he bites into it. It’s gross, truthfully, but he smiles and nods, telling her it tastes good. Nicky rolls her eyes. 

They clean the kitchen together while Beth is playing in her room, and talk about preschool, and then Nicky goes home, and he feels alone.

Wilson tries House’s cell again, and when he picks up, he’s in a bar. There’s a twangy guitar in the background and his voice, rough and slurred. It’s only seven, and he’s this drunk? This isn’t good. 

“Are you okay? Where are you?” Wilson worries. 

“The Midnight.” He says, and he sounds horrible. Wilson knows he lost a patient today, a young boy with bright green eyes. It was his fault, and his only because he had no team to blame it on. Wilson even saw him bouncing ideas off a janitor. The steroids helped move the infection to his heart, and House was beside him when it stopped beating. Jeffery, nineteen, planned on moving to Vancouver. Died alone. No parents or siblings. He moved all the nurses out, told him what was happening. House held his hand as he passed. Stayed with him for a bit, telling him it’d be okay. It wasn’t, clearly, because he was dead, and House could have fixed it. 

“Do you want me to come get you?”

“It’s only seven.” Is House’s response, so Wilson drops it. “I’ll take the bus.”

Wilson nods, knowing House can’t see it. In response, House hangs up. 

Wilson gives Beth a bath, reads her a book and tells her about his day, apologizes for being home late. She falls asleep pressed against her father’s side, laying together in her pink twin sized bed. 

Wilson drifts off, he doesn’t realize, but suddenly theres a knock on the door outside, and its ten PM. The lamp is still on, and Bethany is wrapped in her blankets, rolled away from him. He gets up, turning out the light as he goes to get the visitor. He pulls Beth’s door closed, and looks through the eye-hole. 

It’s House. Asleep on his feet, balancing heavily on his cane, knuckles white. The door swings open, and House slowly makes his way inside. His eyes are grey, movements unsure as he toes off his shoes. Wilson stands up against the closed door, leaning against it as he watches. 

House turns, suddenly, a movement that is sure to throw him off. He sticks his arm out on the door beside Wilsons shoulder, falling into it. Wilson puts up his hands to keep their distance, his hands hard on House’s chest. He’s strong now, chest muscles and shoulders built more then they’ve been in twenty years, all thanks to lifting Bethany into his shoulders, carrying extra brief-cases and apparently, patient’s hands. 

House is suddenly very close, breath catching, knees weak, and then he kisses Wilson and he thinks _oh._ House is soft and kind, heart fluttering under Wilson’s hand. His lips part, grab the other man’s top lip and then, he’s gone. Wilson hadn’t realized his eyes had closed until they’re opening slowly, looking down at House’s neck. They stay there for a moment, breathing each other in. House drunk out of his mind on not just alcohol. 

Wilson’s hands are pushing now, moving him away, but House dives in. Off the deep end. No sight of the bottom. 

This time he presses harder, pushing his mouth onto Wilson’s with a force that knocks him back. Somehow it’s natural, it’s something always hiding under the surface, only now being found. It’s hot breath and House’s tongue licking his lips and fuck, Wilson’s fucking sober, but with the hands sliding down his side, he doesn’t feel like it. Wilson’s never kissed someone taller then him, so the angle of his neck is awkward, and he doesn’t know how to make it work. He pushes up into House, and House takes it beautifully. Moving with him, pulling until Wilson’s neck is stretched, before ducking away from his mouth to nip at the bolt of his jaw, the pulse point under his skin. Wilson sighs into it, loosing himself. His head falls back against the door and his back arches as House bites his collar bone. 

His hands slide down House’s chest, feeling his abdomen quiver with the pain of being upright for so long. It’s only once House breaks away to start pulling at Wilson’s t-shirt that he pushes him away. 

“You lost a pa…” He starts before being interrupted by House biting his lip. He holds him away at arms length. 

“You lost a patient?” He asks, and sees the way House tips. He nods, slowly, his head wobbling after the movement. 

“Let’s get you to bed.” Wilson states, pushing him to the other side of the apartment. Once House is inside his room, he runs to his own, and locks the door. 

_What the_ fuck _just happened?_

 

When he gets up, he showers in Bethany’s room, instead of the one he shares with House. He towel dries his hair and makes breakfasts for two. Beth sits quietly at the end of the table. It’s like nothing happened. Nothing did happen, House was drunk and needy, and Wilson was willing to give him the world, like he always is. 

When he slowly bangs his head on the table, Bethany doesn’t ask. 

-

House is avoiding Wilson like the plague. Literally. 

Him and his team are in the auditorium, and when they aren’t there, he hides in the back room with his mobile radio. He hopes Wilson thinks he was to drunk to remember. He wishes he could think that too.

“Syncope, aspiration, kidney failure. Give me anything.” House says, rubbing his temple with this caned hand. 

“A gram negative bacteria.” Yells Thirteen from across the room. “He’s wearing a catheter full time, it basically screams infection.”

“Which… could have migrated up into his kidneys.” Says one of the twins.

“Infection stresses his already weak immune system.” Says the other. “Makes his SMA worse. That explains the choking and fainting.”

House doesn’t even think before he instructs; “Put him on an IV and gent, and a skin biopsy to confirm the…”

“House!” A visitor’s voice shrills from the door. House pinches his eyes closed, steadies himself on the cane before turning to him. 

“Wilson! So nice of you to stop bye and see the kids.” House teases, already knowing he’s about to be yelled at in front of his new team. 

“What was this doing in your office, alone?” Wilson asks, an angry tint to his voice as he holds up Bethany’s arm. She looks to the floor like she’s already gotten in trouble. 

House rolls his eyes. “I thought you were mad about something important.” He says, calling Beth over with a flick of his wrist. He hooks his cane over his elbow and Beth runs to him. He scoops her up as she runs into him, almost knocking him off his feet. She laughs and screams as he lifts her. Almost the whole team is smiling at seeing this very human side of their boss. She wraps her arms around his neck and legs around his waist, hoping House will protect him from the clearly upset dad, who looks two seconds away from threatening to drag them both back home by pulling on their ears. 

“Who is _that.”_ Asks Cole, but it’s to harsh to be a question

“That’s my daughter.” Wilson yells as he walks down the steps of the auditorium. “Who is supposed to be at home with the nanny.” The team watches as he walks.   “She was going to take her to the zoo for the fourth time this week!” House explains, brushing blonde hair from her eyes. Her arms tighten around him, somehow asking not to be given back to her angry father. 

“That doesn’t mean you can sneak her into the hospital!” Wilson argues, throwing his arms up.

“Wait.” Says Cutthroat Bitch. “Are you two…?”  
  “No.” They say at the same time, both turning to face her. When they finally look at each other, House can see him thinking about last night. Wondering if they are what CB is asking. 

Wilson takes a step back. “I have patients all morning, and you’re just sitting in here. You take her.” Wilson raves, hands to his hips. 

House thinks for a bit. “Who here is good with kids?” The team looks at each other, no hands fly up but CB’s and House bypasses her. Like he’s gonna give his almost-kid to a women who looks like she’d kill for the job. Literally. “Kutner, come take Bethany to see the dog in our patients room.”

“If Cuddy get’s mad at me for this…” Wilson starts. 

“It’s fine.” House insures, smiling to him. Wilson sighs, kissing Bethany’s cheek, and leaves. House pets her back before setting her on the floor. Kutner takes a knee in front of her. She holds onto the edge of House’s pant leg, other hand twisting in her pink skirt. 

“Hey, I’m Lawrence.” he says, offering a hand.

She looks at him, and tips her head, like she’s trying to figure something out. “Doctor’s don’t use first names.” She tells him, and half the team awes. He laughs, offering his hand. “Kutner, then.”

She looks up to House, and seeing his nod wraps her hand around two of Kutner’s fingers. He pulls her along. Together they follow the group to the patients room, leaving House alone to think about Wilson. 

-

“It’s just a drip. For the pain.” Says Thirteen as she pushes in the IV. 

“IV means Intravenous.” Kutner tells Bethany, who is standing on the patients couch, trying to see what Thirteen is doing. 

“Inside the vein.” Agree’s Beth, turning to him, holding his arm so she can try and get higher. 

“Who are you?” Asks the patient, head not moving, but his hand tightens around his dog’s collar. 

“That’s our bosses friend’s daughter. I think this is part of the game.” Thirteen explains as she tapes the IV.

Beth points to him, then raises her arms. Kutner is taken aback, and laughs a bit at her bossiness, before lifting her and carrying her to the other side of the bed. 

“Your mom is a doctor here?” Patient asks, eyes moving over to her, head slugging along with the movement. 

“My dad.” She tells him. “Dr. Wilson, oncology.” Kutner and Thirteen laugh, that’s clearly a trick Wilson taught her. 

“What’s your name?” He asks, looking more relaxed. Eyes soft even though the other doctor is poking him with needles. 

“Bethany. What’s yours?”

“Thomas.” he replies, somewhat dreamily from the drugs. 

“Alright, we’re gonna stay and make sure you don’t have a bad reaction to the medication. Can I get you anything?” Thirteen asks as she hangs the IV bag. Thomas shakes his head, eyes still on Beth. “You remind me of my little sister.”

Beth smiles. “Where is she?” She asks, arms loosening from Kutner’s neck. 

“Back home.” Thomas says. “You wanna sit?” He asks, pushing his legs over with his hand so she has a spot to sit. 

Beth looks to Kutner for confirmation, before dropping from his chest onto the empty space on the bed. “We aren’t allowed dogs in the hospital.” She states, but reaches to pet the sheepdog anyways. Kutner pulls her hand away, but Thomas nods to him, telling him it’s okay. 

“He’s a special dog. He helps me with everything I do.” Thomas tells, petting the part of the dogs head that lays closest to his hand.

“A seeing eye dog?” Beth asks, curiosity in her blue eyes that intrigues the adults in the room. 

“Kind-of like that.” Thomas states, smiling for the first time since he was admitted. “He’s called Hoover.” 

“Hello Hoover.” She says, petting his back. The dog eyes her, but relaxes into his owners hand. 

They stay, talking about Thomas’s little sister and Bethany’s days at the hospital, until Thirteen goes to check his IV. She pushes his body over a bit so she can straighten his spine, and hold out his arm. As soon as he’s moved, his body racks in coughs. His lungs try desperately to try and pull in a breath. He wails his arms, pulling at his IV and knocking his dog off the bed. Kutner holds him down as Thirteen listens for breath sounds on both sides. 

“Fluid in the lungs.” She realizes. “We need a crash cart! Kutner, get her out!”

Kutner is suddenly scooping Beth up into his arms, and holding her. Two nurses push a cart into the room as Thomas’s body shakes on the bed. Bethany watches for a moment, watching as Thirteen stabs a needle into his chest, between his lungs and chest cavity, and pulls back, relieving Thomas from the water hiding there. Beth turns and hides her face in Kutner’s neck after seeing her new friend in pain. 

Kutner takes her outside the room, and they sit on a bench, surrounded by tree’s and bushes behind glass. She sits beside him, and asks if he will be okay. He tells her they don’t know. 

Thirteen tells House about the pulmonary edema, and the pneumonia that resulted. House holds Bethany’s hand when she tells him what happened. 

-

The next day, House investigates a patient that he over hears his team talking about. The man stuck a knife into a wall socket _just for kicks._ Apparently, he was involved in a car crash that left him dead for _97_ seconds. He tells House that there’s something out there. Something more.  
 House leaves still holding the knife he used. 

-

Thomas passes the next night. He asphyxiates on the liquid in his lungs. Thirteen holds his hand and lets his dog sit on the bed. He dies. 

So House sticks a knife in a wall socket to see what it was like for Thomas when he died. 

He sees Wilson. He sees Wilson with a seven month old Bethany laying on his chest as they nap on the couch. He sees Wilson holding her in front of him as he tries to take a call with his phone between his ear and his shoulder. He sees Bethany run at him, and he sees Wilson scoop her up and lift her over his head. He sees Wilson singing in the drivers side to a dumb pop song that he knows all the words too. He sees Wilson kissing Bethany’s head before she goes to bed. Sees Wilson smiling as House tries to figure out how to hold Bethany without falling over. He sees Wilson with his pupils huge and his mouth wet, chest heaving, hand still on House’s chest.  
  _He see’s Wilson._

 “You’re an idiot.” Is the first thing he hears when he regains consciousness. “You nearly killed yourself.”

“That was the whole idea.” Mutters House, softly. His throat hurts.

“You wanted to kill yourself?” Wilson asks, eyes wide. 

“Wanted to _nearly_ kill myself…” House admits. Not telling him of the man who did the same. 

“Okay, maybe you didn’t wanna die, but you didn’t care if you lived.” Growls Wilson, hands braced on the end table of House’s hospital bed. “You’ve already had two near death experiences.” He tells, arms spreading beside his hips. House follows the movement, like the ticking of a grandfather clock. 

“Was he discharged?” Asks House, head lolling to one side. 

“No, he’s dying.” Says Wilson, confused. 

“Not him.” House presses, “the one in the car crash with the knife. I need to talk to him.”

Wilson looks down at him, features softening. “He died two hours ago.” House looks at him in shock. “Apparently it’s bad to electrocute yourself.”

House looks skyward.

“Why did you need to talk to him?” House closed his eyes. “Did you…See something?

House’s eye squeezed closed, like Bethany does when she’s trying to fake sleep.

“House? What did you see?” Wilson is persistent, too close and so beautiful. House wants him to step away. “You don’t wanna talk about it? Or…” 

House looks down at his burnt hand. Flesh red and black and raw. “Nothing. I saw nothing.”   
Wilson rolls his eyes, and picks up House’s chart. “Just looking at you hurts. I’m gonna order some extra pain meds. 

“I love you.” House whispers, and Wilson’s chest tightens. He takes a breath, and writes on the chart. His plan is to turn and walk away without another glance, but House doesn’t like that idea. “Will you kiss me again?” He asks, kindly, like he’s asking for a fucking cafeteria jello cup. Wilson stutters, and turns to him, shock written like black marker on his face. 

“Wha...You...I...Y-You kissed me!” He stutters, dropping the chart on the bed. 

“Fine, come closer then.” House tells him, and Wilson’s jaw drops open.   
“No!” He yelps, and then stutters. Scrambling for words like he’s flipping through a dictionary. House rolls his head to the side, away from Wilson. Wilson leaves. 

-

Time passes, and one night, Bethany shakes House awake. He grumbles, and hides under his blankets, but she is persistent. banging on his arm until he wakes. 

“Daddy’s gone.” She states, scared, holding her stuffed bear to her chest. 

“Wha?”

“He’s not in his bed, or the bathroom, or the dining room.” She explains and looks panicked. Her hair is tangled at the end, and her heart covered night dress is bunching at her feet. The bear looks to be choking with how tightly she’s holding it. 

House groans. “Okay, calm down, I’m sure he was just called to the hospital.” He tells her. 

“Can we call him?

House mumbles something Bethany can’t hear, and sits up, pulling his good leg up to his chest. He dials his number as she crawls onto the bed beside by his feet, scooting until she’s beside him. The phone rings a few times, and Wilson picks up, sounding sleeping. 

He can’t even get a hello out before House is asking, voice sleep rough and upset. “Why is your daughter in my room telling me you’re not in yours?”

Wilson sighs on the other side of the line. “I’m at a friends. I planned to be home before you woke up.”

House is confused. “What friend.”

“House…”

“What _friend.”_ House demands. 

“A girl from work.” Wilson says, and House hangs up as soon as he hears the word girl. He rubs a hand down his face, and ignores the picture of Wilson on his phone as he tries to call back. He tucks Beth under his covers and lays beside her, watching Wilson smiling on the screen until it falls black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a kiss! finally!
> 
> hahahahahaha house is jealous. poor baby. okay hahaha i hated amber, but i hated that she fucking died so not writing that!!!! so im just gonna make them break up and ya.


	5. year 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beth starts school, wilson never dated amber, warnings for canon-death and sad house, oh, and sex.

House pushed open the door to the office, a scowled look on his face. “My wife, Wilson, just yelled at me for not doing dishes.” He scoffs, turning to the case file in his hand. 

“Your mom called… Twice.” Kutner declares. House tries to ignore it. 

“She’s not dying…” House says with a shrug. “Me, on the other hand, if I don't start doing dishes...”  

“Her message sounded kind-of urgent.” Kutner tries, but House just slams the case file onto the table before turning to walk into his office. 

“That’s… typically how women sound when their spouse of 50 years dies.” House states and greatly appreciates the shocked silence from his team. 

Thirteen stutters for a moment. “Your dad died? Are you…”

“Fine? Yep! Now, the woman who drinks not so occasionally started vomiting blood and fainted on a trip to China…”   “House. Call your mom.” Taub says and it sounds like it should be a demand, but it’s careful, like he’s going to fall apart at the seams. The team is always looking for holes in his seams. Bastards. 

“Who are you, my mom?” House sasses and Taub doesn’t have it, telling him that they can simply finish the diagnosis after the phone call, and House suddenly feels like running. Taub gives him a sad look, one like Wilson’s. 

“I’m fine,” he shrugs, “didn’t even like the man.” House says, stumbling back to his office. He feels lightheaded, and decides that the team can figure this one out while he rests his head for a moment. Just… a moment…

-

_(Wilson knew he would have to possibly drag House out of the hospital by his collar to get him to his fathers funeral, so instead, he yells at House about not doing dishes (which is _very _annoying by the way) and slips a sedative into his coffee. He’s carful to stand near the window to watch as he finally falls. With the help of Cuddy and Foremen, he gets him on a gurney, and with a sheet over his body, he rolls him to the car.)_  
-_ _

His eyes fly open and he’s in a car. 

Wilson’s volvo, to be exact. 

__Fuck, his head hurt and the music was loud and the fucking kid is kicking his seat._ _

__“Beth! Quit it!” He shouts, but she only laughs. Her and Wilson are singing along to some damn disney song and House suddenly finds the thought of jumping out the car window very appealing, because he knows where he’s going. He knows why Wilson is in a black suit and why Beth’s wavy blonde hair is slicked back in a tie at the crown of her head, and why his blazer isn’t blue and why his head hurts._ _

__He’s literally being forced to go to a funeral._ _

__-_ _

__Mrs. House is in black, her hair is teased at the back and her concealer hardly covers the dark smudges under her eyes. She hugs him, arms thin and fragile, kisses his and Wilson’s cheek, Beth’s hand._ _

__Blythe talks about his great life and whatever, but House just stares at Bethany’s hand in Wilson’s much bigger one. Her black frilly dress and sparkly bow attached to her shoes. She swings her legs, childish innocence that he hopes never parishes. She has no idea how dark and sad this place is, all she knows is she drove a long time to get here, and has to drive a long time to get back._ _

__When his mother calls him using his first name, House shudders. Wilson looks at him expectantly, but Beth doesn’t even look up. He wonders if she knows that’s his name. He stands, brushes his thighs, and takes careful steps on the dark carpet to the scary podium. His mother’s smile is comforting, somehow, but Wilson’s eyes are not. He looks away from him._ _

__He wants to yell, tell the people in this room he deserved to die, say he made his child sleep on the lawn and sit in ice water for not doing as told. Tell them all the days he was too scared to go home. Instead he says:_ _

__“There's a lot of people here today. Including some from the corps. And I notice that every one of them is either my father's rank or higher. And that doesn't surprise me. Because, if the test of a man is how he treats those he has power over, it was a test my father failed. This man you're eager to pay homage to, he was incapable of admitting any point of view but his own. He punished failure, and he did not accept anything less than…”_ _

__The room looks scared. Wilson and his mother especially. He stops._ _

__“He loved doing what he did. He saw his work as some kind of… sacred calling. More important than any personal relationship. Maybe if he'd been a better father, I'd be a better son. But I am what I am because of him, for better or for worse… And I am going to be a better father to my daughter because of him… I just wish…”_ _

__And he fakes a tear, one that will convince everyone _but_ Wilson, but Wilson has to know he’s faking… right? He called the dweeb his _daughter_ for christ sake. He leans down over his father’s body, and leans to kiss his forehead. Maybe then he won’t haunt him…_ _

____And if he uses some toenail clippers to cut off some of the guy’s ear, (For science) well, no one will ever notice._ _ _ _

____-_ _ _ _

____They leave before anyone can ask about House’s supposed daughter. House offers to drive home through the night so Wilson can sleep. Within an hour, both Wilson and Beth are asleep with their heads lulling against the windows._ _ _ _

____House slips his fingers into Wilson’s jacket cuff when he’s good and sure he’s asleep. He pulls the hand away from his lap so he can hold it better, and just keeps his fingers there. He doesn’t wrap his fingers around Wilson’s or feel the heat of Wilson’s skin or any other girly shit like that. He doesn’t hold his hand, he just pushes the soft fabric between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the material under his fingerprints._ _ _ _

____He feels less alone._ _ _ _

____-_ _ _ _

____When he wakes, the moon is bright, and he recognizes the street lamps. They’re getting close to home. He looks down at House’s hand, one finger hooked in his cuff, like Wilson is his lifeline. And sometimes he is, but now he knows he can get a better grip. He turns his hand backwards to grab House’s wrist before he pulls it away. He pulls the wayward limb to him, and places it palm down on his thigh. House’s fingers tense up, but Wilson’s hand covers his, his thumb sneaking under neath to brush House’s palm. His fingers relax under the other man’s, and he gives Wilson’s thigh a squeeze in thanks._ _ _ _

____-_ _ _ _

____Life goes on. It has to right? He doesn’t grief. Or mourn, that’s just dumb. He hated the man. He loves his life now, and it’s even better now that that man will never be a threat again._ _ _ _

____He loves himself a lot more then he did. It’s still hard, the sadness is weaved into his bones, but here with Wilson and Bethany, he’s happy. He’s proud that he’s here._ _ _ _

____He drags his duvet into the kitchen just to be dramatic. He’s quiet so he can hear them._ _ _ _

____There’s soft music playing from the corner speaker, something with a soft guitar and a kind male voice. House doesn’t know what it is, but Wilson definitely does. He’s got Bethany on his hip, head bobbing to the song. She’s getting a bit too big to be carried everywhere, but Wilson doesn’t seem to care. She has her head pillowed on his shoulder, watching him work, stirring what House is sure is macadamia nut pancakes. He smiles to himself._ _ _ _

____“Can I put the nuts in now?” She asks quietly, knowing her voice carries close to his ear._ _ _ _

____“Sure… Here.” He passes her something, and she lifts from his shoulder. An extra hand comes around to hold her, and House moves closer to lean against the island._ _ _ _

____“When will they be done?” She asks._ _ _ _

____“Soon.” He answers, turning and pushing hair out of her eyes. She ducks away from him, and see’s House, standing awkwardly behind them._ _ _ _

____“You’re awake!” She exclaims, causing Wilson to turn to see him._ _ _ _

____“Just got up.” He tells her, walking over when she stretches out her arms, a request to be held. He takes her into his hold, wrapping his duvet around her, before turning and kissing Wilson’s mouth. He freezes, and House thinks _oh._ Wilson turns, looking at him with wonder. House wants to kiss him forever. _ _ _ _

____“What was that for?” He asks, cheeks flushed._ _ _ _

____“You’re making me pancakes.” He explains, as if it _was_ that simple. _ _ _ _

____“Oh.” Wilson says, before blushing and smiling, turning back to his pancakes. House walks away with Beth in his hold, and sits at the island table. Beth sits with her knees to her chest and her head in the centre of House’s chest._ _ _ _

____He listens to Wilson sing, and holds Bethany close._ _ _ _

____He doesn’t know how they managed to keep this little group together, but they have, and it’s all House could have ever asked for._ _ _ _

____-_ _ _ _

____Weeks pass and suddenly the world crumbles again._ _ _ _

____The first thing he wants to do when he finds out about Kutner is run. Maybe home, maybe far away. Thirteen is wiping wetness away from her cheek as Foreman tells them what they found when they went to his apartment. His face is straight, looking at nothing and his eyes don’t move. Taub is scared straight. Thirteen looks like she’ll crumble._ _ _ _

____“Hadley.” He says softly, reaching to pull her arm. She crashes against his chest and her hands come up to hold by his neck. She puts her chin on his shoulder, waiting for the shivers to stop. House stands still, hands in fists on her upper back. The men look at them, sadness in their own eyes._ _ _ _

____“It’s okay, guys. It’s gonna be okay.” He tells them, like he’s trying to reassure a couple of young children. Foreman looks to his feet, Taub looks to the heavens._ _ _ _

____“What do we do.” Thirteen asks in horror, hands shaking at House’s back._ _ _ _

____House squeezes is eyes shut. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. He says; “It’s gonna be okay.” Even though it won’t._ _ _ _

____-_ _ _ _

____His room seems scary now, with the lights off and the apartment quiet. He first, goes and makes sure Bethany is okay. She is, of course. Asleep with a pink teddybear in her grip. He leans against the door frame and watches her. Thinking about how much his life has changed._ _ _ _

____“House?” Wilson calls from behind him, and when he turns, he steals House’s breath away._ _ _ _

____It’s so simple, he thinks, for Wilson to take his breath away. Make his heart beat out of his chest._ _ _ _

____“You okay?” He asks. His hair is ruffled at the back, like he’d only just thrown on the black teeshirt thats hanging off his shoulders. One side is too stretched, for it slides off to expose one delicate collarbone and the edge of a boney shoulder. The street lights shine through the window over the piano, lighting the keys, along the ground, and the right side of Wilson. The light is soft and kind to his features. Highlighting his cheekbones and nose, yet dulling them. His eyes are dark, and from the other side of the living room, House can hardly see them from where they are hiding under thick lashes and a wayward strand of hair that falls over his left eye. His pants are actually House's, ones he gave to Wilson to wear the first night he slept on that damn couch in his old apartment after his first marriage fell apart. They’re bagging but nice on him, and neither of them are really sure why he’s kept them._ _ _ _

____House glances back into Bethany’s room to insure she hadn’t woken in the few seconds he wasn’t looking. He closes the door._ _ _ _

____“Please…” Wilson says, taking a step forward. “Talk to me.”_ _ _ _

____House looks at the floor, then his hand on the door knob, then the ceiling, then Wilson._ _ _ _

____He nods. “I’m fine.”_ _ _ _

____Wilson calls him over with a flick of his wrist, and House laughs a bit. He goes over bare feet pat patting against the wood floor._ _ _ _

____“Do you want a hug?” Wilson asks, a silly smile on his face._ _ _ _

____House laughs. “No.” He lies before hugging him. Burying his face in his shoulder. Wilson holds on tight. He pets his back, up to his head and then back down. House finds it soothing._ _ _ _

____“Go to sleep.” Wilson pleads, turning him to his bedroom door. He does. He lets Wilson push him to the hallway between their two room, and into his bedroom. He tells him he’ll sleep. They both know he won’t._ _ _ _

____-_ _ _ _

____Wilson comes in to check on him, looking like a child who’s had a nightmare. His teeshirt is huge as it bunches around him, his sweatpants drags on the floor._ _ _ _

____House wants to hold him, when he’s soft and sleepy like this. House wants to wrap his arms around him and fall into his chest, to curl in a ball and feel the beat of his heart, thrumming, unlike Kutner’s. He meets his eyes, and House can tell he’s sad too, not just because of Kutner but how it’s ruining the team._ _ _ _

____House lets his eyes fall to the ground, and his head falls soon after. Bobbing along with the jolt of the movement, sitting on the edge of the bed with his feet on the ground, elbows on his knees._ _ _ _

____Wilson is sad when he asks if he’s alright. He doesn’t answer. He comes to stand between his spread legs, brushing his hair with his fingers until he looks up. House falls forward, burring his face into Wilson’s stomach. He winds his arms around his back, holds him. Wilson just pets his neck and shoulders. House pushes at his teeshirt impatiently, pushing it up so he can kiss along Wilson’s hipbones, the line that V’s down into his pants. He licks his navel, up to his chest, stretches his neck to flick his tongue over his nipple. Wilson moans, pushing himself into House’s mouth._ _ _ _

____After a moment, Wilson pulls him away from his stomach to look him in the eye. He strokes a hand down House’s cheek, feel the stubble give under his fingers. He grasps House’s face between his palms, and his hands are warm. The lips that press to his own are warmer, though, moving gently to wake him from his trance._ _ _ _

____House feels lighter, hands coming to grab Wilson’s hands on his face, then the line of his spine, then the back of his thighs, pulling until Wilson moves with him. He wraps a leg around the outside of House’s thigh, and the other, careful of his bad leg, Wilson straddles his lap, breath still hot in House’s mouth. His fingers grab the edge of his jaw, tipping his face up so he can slip his tongue past his lips. House’s fingers dig into Wilson’s back, feeling the shift of his muscles as he starts a slow pace, grinding down on his lap._ _ _ _

____House is lost, so fucking lost. His mouth opens, eyes shut, chest heaves. All the can think is _wilson, wilson, wilson._ _ _ _ _

_____He’s careful lowering House down onto the bed, careful to sit on his groin rather than his thighs. He rolls his hips, kisses into House’s open mouth._ _ _ _ _

_____Wilson is gorgeous like this. Hair messed, face flushed, mouth wet. House can’t help himself as he stroke his hands up and down Wilson’s bare chest, feeling the strong muscles under smooth skin. Wilson leans down to kiss him, hands on either side of his head to keep balanced. He kisses into his mouth before House breaks away to nip at his neck. Then House is pushing, rolling him onto his back so Wilson’s on the bottom, hips pressed together as House kisses his neck, his collarbone, before moving to his chest, nipples and navel. The button of his jeans might as well have popped off and flown across the room with how fast House pops it, pulling the unforgiving fabric past his knees._ _ _ _ _

_____Wilson’s boxers are tented, and House presses his mouth to the fabric of his boxers. Wilson’s eyes squeeze shut, bucking his hips up into his heat._ _ _ _ _

______”House… Please…”_ He begs, hand flying down to hold his hair. House takes pity, pulling his blue boxers down to his mid thigh. His cock springs from the confining fabric, and House takes a second to look. His fingers roam, touch, feel as Wilson tries to keep his cool. _ _ _ _ _

______House kisses his inner thigh, before going and taking Wilson’s _entire fucking god damn cock down his holy shit throat fuck!_ Wilson lets House push his hips into the bed so he doesn’t buck up and fucking stab House in the throat as he starts an easy rhythm, head bobbing and cheeks hallowing as he moves with unpracticed sucks. As soon as House’s hands remove themselves from his hips, Wilson is thrusting into the heat of his _god damn mother-fucking mouth,_ fingers twirling in short grey hair._ _ _ _ _ _

________He moves easily, thrusting his hips off the bed, into House’s mouth. He hardly notices Houses’ hands opening the bedside drawer, fishing around for whatever but honestly, he doesn’t care, all he can think about now and maybe forever is damn hot House is._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________When a finger plays around his rim, he lets himself slow. House opens him with easy, precise movements, cock forgotten as House’s breath ghosts into him instead._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________It doesn’t take long before he’s lining up, cock-condom-lube, all bumping against his hole. He holds onto House’s back, and can feel House regain control. That’s all he wanted. To feel in control of his fucking life again. Wilson helps by thrusting down hard enough to make House yell out. His legs bend at the knee and press down, letting House do the rest,_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The thrusts are easy, slow, simple. His face is buried in Wilson’s neck, and he lets him stay there. He strokes his hair, his back, his trembling legs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Wilson lets him speed up, enjoying the sting. House’s arms are up on either side of him, holding him up as he pushes, thrusts so hard his bed has certainly skid a few inches over. Wilson _begs._ “Please please please, yes, harder harder harder.” Wilson links his fingers with his, and House kisses him, tears stinging his eyes. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Soon, it starts to feel really good, and Wilson is moaning into his mouth, sound vibrating against the walls, shaking this home they've made for themselves. Maybe they will stay here forever._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________His hand moves fast on his cock, and with that and House thrusting, he could come, but it’s House’s voice, deep and sexy as fuck that really sets him off._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“Yeah, c’mon baby. C’mon baby, fuck, I love you, c’mon.” He mumbles, face down as he thrusts once, twice, and Wilson feels him shoot deep inside him. That’s what makes Wilson come._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________House is lost, but Wilson brings him back with hands on his face, letting him stay as long as he needs. Wilson wipes a tear when it falls off House’s eyelash, and kisses him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________House cleans him up, leg probably burning, but hey, if he’s offering. Wilson lays still and lets him be cleaned by a warm washcloth. His boxers are returned and so are House’s, before he’s pulled into his chest. House’s arms wind around him, holding close and safe. Sobs rock House’s body, but they calm once their heart rates sync. House kisses his forehead where it lays on his chest, an arm stroking up and down his sides. Wilson has never been so in love._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________And here, they stay, together as one, until the morning sun is bright and high over the horizon._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________-_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________He realizes, when he wakes up, that he can’t hear his alarm. This is because he’s still asleep in House’s bed, where there is no alarm clock. Wilson _is_ House’s alarm clock. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________It’s 9:12AM._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He rolls over, figures he’s already late, so who cares. He can have five more minutes.  
He had separated from House in the night, because they were both laying far apart from each other. He slides over, and fits himself up along House’s side, sliding into his arms. House mumbles, his eyebrows raising in surprise but his eyes never open. Wilson rests his head on his shoulder and kisses his neck there. He grumbles, but holds him tightly, even turning a bit to fit along the warm line that is Wilson. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________They sleep a little longer._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________-_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Beth is ecstatic about missing school, because neither of them have the energy to drive her. House calls Cuddy and tells her he’s sick, and staying home with Wilson. She believes it, tells him to remember to eat and shower, and he hangs up on her as soon as she tells him to talk about his feelings. House plays cars in Beth’s room, driving them up and down the walls and over the bedspread, under the table and all over House’s legs and back._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Kutner was very nice.” Bethany says, pushing the black car back and forth._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Yeah. He was.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“He had cool hair.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________House chuckles. “I guess so.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________-_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Wilson winces when he walks and House kisses him, worried._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Did I hurt you? I hurt you didn’t I?” He worries, Wilson’s neck between his hands. Wilson kisses his nose._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“No. No, I feel… better than I have in a while.” He admits softly, and House just smiles, his bottom lip worrying between his teeth. He nods his agreement, holding his face, simply being present. ._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________House makes dinner, and watches Toy Story on the couch with Beth curled up next to a sleeping Wilson. She rests her head on his chest and her feet against House’s thigh. She leans up and takes a bite of the sandwich he made for her, and then she goes back to let her father wrap her in his arms._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________-_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Not a lot changes after that day._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________They’re still the same people._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________House thanks him, for “helping me feel better.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Wilson feels his heart sink. To him, it was more then convenience. More then feeling in control of his body. It was about House._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________-_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________But at work, they are different._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Two patients tell him he’s not focusing on their treatment, Wilson tries to apologize._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Thirteen notices something is off, she asks, but House says nothing. Not even a comment about her being all up in his case, he just looks away, like it’s killing him. She wants to help, he know she does. He tries to ignore her, but when she brings him lunch, and a diet pepsi, and sits in front of him, he can’t really help it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I had sex with Wilson.” He says like it’s been wearing him down all day._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Thirteen —bless her heart— doesn’t look as surprised as she feels. She raises her eyebrows to encourage him to keep talking. He can’t._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“When?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“The night Kutner died.” Four nights ago, since most of the team took two days off._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Have you…ever…” She tries, brushing hair from her face. She has an intelligent looking face, knowing eyes. People have told him he’s smart just by looking at his face, but with her, you’d know instantly that she’s educated. Her tone is soft, it makes House want to talk to her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Yeah, in like, college.” He admits, looking down at the case file on his desk. Theres a toy car that catches his eye. He remembers the first day he had watched Bethany in the hospital, watching her drive toy cars all around the room. She bounced on Cameron’s knee, and kept pulling on Foreman’s brightly coloured tie. He hopes she grows up to be just like Thirteen._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________She looks at him easily, like this isn't an earth shattering conversation. “So you’re not worried because he’s a man… It’s because he’s _Wilson? ___”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________House shrugs, his head tipping. “He’s been my friend a long time. I don’t want him to be… uncomfortable.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“Did he seem uncomfortable?” She asks, her eyes shining. House thinks she’s very pretty. It’s easier for him to focus on her pretty face then this conversation._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“No.” He tells._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“Then I wouldn’t worry.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“We have a kid.” House says with his head shaking._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________Thirteen looks at him for a second. “This is no different then how it was. You can still raise her how you want to if you’re with Wilson. Probably even better.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“She’ll have two dads. She’ll be a freak.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“Is two dads better then one; plus his weird crippled friend?” She teases, and it makes him smile. He shrugs. “I guess.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________She reaches out a hand and places it on his shoulder, a light squeeze, a huge reassurance. She goes to the rest of the team. House sees their heads pop up in question, she shakes her head, raises her shoulders. He’s got to remember to thank her later._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________-_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________As soon as he gets home, House kisses the man he loves. In front of Bethany… He would kiss him in front of the whole world. The girl yells her complaints, but he can’t hear them._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“I love you.” He tells him. Wilson’s eyes widen. He doesn’t say it back, but that’s okay._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“And you!” he yells, pointing to Bethany standing in the middle of the room. “C’mere!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________She runs up to him and he struggles to pick her up. She’s so big now. “I love you, too.” House tells her, and his chest heaves._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“House, are you high?”   “No. I just. I love you guys.” He kisses Beth’s cheek. She pushes at his face and giggles at him. “And I want… I want to be yours.” He admits turning to Wilson. His eyebrows pinch. “And I want you… to be mine.” He tells Bethany._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________Wilson is shocked, obviously, can barely hear what he’s saying._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“I want to adopt you. I want us to be a family.” House finishes, a little breathless. When he looks back at Wilson, he’s smiling._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“Really?” He asks, heart on his sleeve._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“Really.” He promises, putting Bethany on the ground so he can hold Wilsons face with two hands. He kisses his closed mouth, and the tip of his nose. “We’ve been through so much shit and… we’re still here.” Wilson smiles, kissing him again, before turning to look down at the five year old._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“How would you like that? For House to be your dad?” Wilson asks her.    “Two dads?” She questions. Wilson nods. She thinks about it for a moment, looking up at them both. “Okay.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“Okay.” Wilson says with a laugh. “Okay.” He says as he’s nodding to House. “Okay.” He says as he kissing him again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Life is about growing and improving and getting better.”  
Conor McGregor ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay fuck I'm done. i can’t beileve I've finished this. THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO LEFT ME CUTE COMMENTS AND KUDOS; YOU MAKE MY WORLD GO ROUND!!!!  thank you for reading - JR @ghostycas on tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> i'm dumb incase you forgot  
> the characters aren't mine, they belong to.... ya know the drill  
> i'm @ghostycas on tumblr, come chat!!


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